John Mayer and Pete Wentz have officially begun their public courtship.

It started the same as all great love stories: two individuals meet whilst attached to another, in this case the other being the sisters Simpson. As casual and cordial as the initial meet always is a fondness birthed in each, subconsciously nurtured until the two fates entwined yet more. In this case the fates collided in a collaborative cover of Michael Jackson’s “Beat It,” with Mayer devilishly stroking his guitar and Wentz fingering his bass. Then came the intimate moment: two musicians lock eyes while Patrick Stump howls “So beat it, but you wanna be bad.” Of course, we can never be sure such a moment existed, but it does twist the lyrics.

After the intimate collaboration, a deep yearning boiled in the hearts of both men, a crush according to Wentz’s blog. But, keeping with the arc of tales of love lost and found, the love was not to be. It was to be hidden under pillows, stowed in pockets, it was to be kept to mysterious phone calls at 3 in the morning and a bouquet of roses sent from a secret admirer.

Tragically, Wentz was to be wed, and Mayer, brimming with dejection, turned his sights to Hollywood’s most eligible bachelorette. Both strove to carry on with their lives as they were meant to be led, straining to ignore the yearning burrowed beneath every off-key note. They carried on until they could carry on no longer. Until one decided he must be true to himself.

“yes its a crush,” so Wentz titled the spark, the blog, that reignited the fire in both their hearts. “what he says in the first thirty seconds of this clip is something i have felt for the last year. Exactly.” It’s easy for the layman to oversee the undertow of fingers stretched out under tablecloths. It bears the mark of a faint caress amidst a crowd. Between the lines it screams, “You are my soul mate.”

Then came the wait. The nail biting, sleepless wait. But the light shone itself amidst the dusk of the wait. Mayer responded mere hours after Wentz with the surging passion of a Shakespearean sonnet. Here it is in its entirely annotated glory:

“Yo Pete-“

Hey you.

“I could have easily written this to you in an email, but you've been so cool to write positive things about me on your blog(s) that I want to respond in kind.”

I can’t hide my feelings anymore, I love you too.

“Here's using blogs for something other than pointing out boob jobs and slight limps.”

I’m being serious.

“-Ting, ting, ting-“

But playful because I want you to smile. I love making you smile.

“You're one of the best eggs in the music industry, hands down. With as much talent as you have, I'd expect you'd have some eccentric ego, but from what I can tell you seem to have none. (That actually makes you more talented, by way of some crazy cosmic arithmetic.) Every time we get the chance to hang I'm inspired by your creativity.”

You are such an amazing individual; I’m so lucky to know you.

“Your mind is like a stadium with the dome open...”

And your body is a wonderland.

“you have ZERO judgment when it comes to things that move you. When most people get the feeling they might like an idea, or a shirt, they run it through a series of filters; 'what should I think, given my personal attributes?' 'How does this read?' 'What would Kanye do?' You have what makes talented people successful for years and years - a brave sense of self and a completely authentic relationship with your tastes.”

I love that you are your own person.

“That's why I'll throw a guitar in the car and be there anytime you need me. It's a short list.”

(cooing) Just call my name and I’ll be there

“(I’m lazy.)”

But only because you’re cool, I’m not a creep hehe.

“Isn't it weird when you're alone in your hotel room and the ice in that bucket melts, shifting it all and making it sound like someone's hiding in your closet? That always gets me.”

Pete, only you know what I mean. You always do.


No, I’m not.

“Point is, I think the world of you. And wish you all the happiness your artsy head will accept. Fame is just one big lesson in being a man, and you're doing a bang up job...”

I love you and only want you to be happy.

“Best to you and your lovely wife...”

Even if you don’t find happiness with me. But if that bitch leaves you, call me.

“Oh, and what's up, blogosphere. Have at it.”

Ridicule us, writer. I don’t care. I love this man.



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